


Lucid Dreaming of You (and other little stories)

by TripleX_Tyrant



Category: Pocket Mortys, Rick and Morty
Genre: Ambiguous Age, Fluff, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6138705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripleX_Tyrant/pseuds/TripleX_Tyrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of RickMorty fics written for the first week of “Month of Sin” dubbed “Fluff Week.” Each little story is based on a different prompt, though they may not follow the prompt exactly.</p><p>March 1: ~Rick dream-hops and fights off Morty's nightmares~<br/>March 2: ~Morty sleeping in Rick's bed~<br/>March 3: ~A Pocket Mortys RickMorty pairing of your choice~ ~Beach Day!~<br/>March 4: ~Rick taking care of Morty after a fight~<br/>March 5: ~Morty asking Rick to the dance~<br/>March 6: ~First kiss~<br/>March 7: ~Rick and Morty asleep in each other's arms~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lucid Dreaming of You

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! It's the first day of the Month of Sin! Which, btw, [you can find the calendar for here.](http://schwifty-rick.tumblr.com/post/139751605252/alright-guys-here-it-is-the-long-semi-awaited) Please note that the month is intended for 18+ only. However, since this is Fluff Week, none of the stories in this collection will be explicit. Unless you mean explicitly fluffy! Hahaha! See… see what I did there? We have fun.
> 
> March 1st, promt: ~Rick dream-hops and fights off Morty's nightmares~

Rick sits in his ship with gritted teeth, watching Morty across the room. Morty's hands hover over the shelf, which holds potted plants of different colors. For example, the purple one that Rick wants to snag. Or… is that one blue?

Rick hisses a loudly whispered, “Morty, the purple one!”

Morty goes for the purple one. Or is that just a dark blue? Maybe… maybe this is the purple one. Unless _it's_ blue and he was right the first time and man, do you need to go back to kindergarten? Just grab one!

They hear feet charging from down the hall. “Dammit Morty,” Rick spits, throwing the ship into park and leaping out. He grabs the purple plant (oh, he was right the first time) and scoops Morty up by the waist. He shoves him through the driver's side door and into the passenger seat before pushing the plant into his arms. Rick gets going just as the alien guards swing open the doors, but before they have time to react, Rick flies the ship right through the glass ceiling, raining glass on the guards.

 

“I said sorry! Jeez,” Morty says once they're standing in the garage again. Rick paces between him and the plant on the table.

“It was the easiest task ever, Morty. Grab the purple plant!”

“I know!” Morty shouts, wanting Rick to shut up already. He crosses his arms and looks down.

Rick stops pacing and just stares at Morty. He doesn't like not being listened to. “What's wrong with you?” Rick asks, and when Morty's arms tighten against each other and his shoulders hike to a moody half shrug, Rick tries again. “What's wrong, Morty?”

Morty says, nearly mumbles, “It's not like I don't know I keep screwing up.”

It's true that Morty can be easily overwhelmed, but Rick wouldn't call him a screw up. Well, he might _call_ him a screw up, but he doesn't actually tend to think of him that way. But Morty's recent displays of indecision are starting to be a problem. “What makes you- Hey, look at me.”

Morty doesn't turn his head up, but with some effort he does manage to bring his eyes up, making him look very much like a kicked puppy. Rick continues, “What makes you say that? It's not every day you b-blow it when I give you explicit instructions.”

Morty deflates, blowing out as his arms go limp, and he shrugs. “I dunno. It's s-stupid.” He can't bring himself to tell Rick about his color mix-up. He can already hear the mockery in his head, and he doesn't think he can take it for real.

“Trust me, I g-uuur-athered that much,” Rick replies, and when Morty's eyes fall away and his frown deepens, Rick feels a bit guilty. Maybe, just maybe, he doesn't like seeing Morty so depressed. Not that he really _cares_ , but screw it. It's affecting his work, so he's allowed to care. “For real, Morty. What's stupid?”

Morty tries to say it flippantly. “I keep having, like, th-those dreams where n-nothing goes right, and I can't… can't get it together and it's really stressful and anxiety-inducing.” He rubs his face. “I keep feeling like that's gonna happen in real life. Like everything I do is gonna be wrong.”

Rick nods. “You're talking about anxiety dreams. The most bullshit type of dreams.”

Morty brightens at this. “Do you have them?”

“No. I'm a genius.” Morty looks more annoyed than upset now, and Rick is humored. “Look, y-ya just gotta learn how to control your dreams. Have you ever lucid dreamt?”

“Lucid dreamt?” Morty echoes, and Rick puts his arm around his shoulder, walking him to the living room.

“It's easy,” Rick says. “A-anyone can do it.” He explains the basics: recognizing you're in a dream. Controlling them. He gives a few tips for differentiating dreams from reality: checking clocks, trying to write or type or read, looking at mirrors. Making sure they all work properly. “Get in the habit of checking that stuff,” Rick explains, putting his feet on the coffee table, “and you can learn to do just about anything. Fly. Create. Maybe get your little friend Jessica in there and have some fun.” Rick elbows Morty, and Morty shoves him in return with an embarrassed laugh.

“Lucid dreams, huh?” Morty ponders. He seems a lot more at ease after this, so Rick is pleased. Even if it's due to Morty thinking about having fuck dreams of Jessica. It's not like he cares.

It's not like Morty shows up in his dreams or anything.

And that could have been another tip for recognizing a dream: the person who is most annoyed by you suddenly wants you all over them.

Honestly, Rick doesn't have much faith in Morty's lucid dreaming abilities. The boy is an anxious bundle of nerves in the waking world as it is, so Rick doesn't see him catching the obvious signs. It's curiosity more than anything that leads Rick to Morty's room that night, dream inceptors in hand. Rick rationalizes this, thinking the sooner they deal with Morty's anxiety dreams, the sooner they can get back to work. He slips into Morty's room, closing the door silently behind him, and steps up to Morty's bedside. The stupid kid looks so comfortable, and Rick has a nagging impulse to startle him awake. He's lying on his belly, covers midway down his back. He's breathing in little puffs between parted lips and he looks so… so soft.

Rick really wants to startle him.

But he doesn't. Morty's eyes are rolling behind his lids, and Rick knows it's perfect timing. He puts the inceptor in Morty's ear, then sits against the bed before putting in his own.

He finds himself in the garage and quickly ducks behind the ship. Morty is facing the work bench, but is looking at his phone, and Rick thinks this has got to be the dumbest dream anyone could have. Perhaps a monument to this generation. Then he hears whoever is sitting at the work bench.

“The instructions, _Morty_!” the voice snaps, practically snarls, causing Morty to fumble with his phone. Rick instantly recognizes the voice, but he peeks over the ship anyway. The dream version of Rick is working on some clunky contraption. “Well?” he says.

“I-i-it doesn't make any sense,” Morty stammers out, brow knitted and eyes fixed on his phone.

Dream Rick turns in his seat, and he looks almost ridiculously enraged. Rick scoffs at this dramatic portrayal of himself. He thinks that if this is all Morty is anxious about, he'll just have to learn to deal with it.

Dream Rick yells, “Just read the fucking words, dumb ass! Can't you read English? You need to go back to pre-school and learn your ABCs?”

“B-but Rick, these letters don't… I don't even know these words.”

Rick almost wants to laugh. It's exactly the sort of scenario that should give the dream away, but poor Morty is too worked up to realize it. Dream Rick stands up, and as much as Rick towers over Morty already, Dream Rick looms from even higher. The creases in his fury-warped face are inhuman.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? If you don't hurry the fuck up, I'm gonna break that phone of yours! I swear, I knew Mortys were stupid little shits, but I really lucked out when I got you. The most incompetent piece of garbage on the trash pile! Might as well work with a dog turd!”

And now Rick doesn't want to laugh at all because tears have started rolling down Morty's face, and Rick is disgusted that it's Morty's idea of him that's caused it. The boy's chin is wobbling as he tries to hold back, but Dream Rick doesn't make it easy.

“Are you seriously fucking crying?” Morty wipes at his slick cheek, but it's like trying to wipe away a puddle. “Are you a baby? Should I get you a diaper for when you piss your--”

Rick decks his dream self. He's a few heads taller, but Rick gets him right in the jaw, and Dream Rick falls, hits his head on the table, and spurts blood before falling limp on the floor. Morty is stunned when Rick snatches the phone from his hand.

“Don't listen to that imposter, Morty!” Rick says before smashing the phone on the floor.

“Rick?!” Morty squeaks, eyes wide.

Rick grabs Morty by the shoulders, bending to eye level. “Good job keeping him distracted. Those… Barklovamites think they're so clever, but w-we showed them, right Morty?”

“H-huh?” Morty says weakly, his voice hoarse. Morty's cheeks are shiny with tears, his eyes all red-rimmed and puffy, and Rick hates it. Hates that he did it. That Morty thinks Rick _would_ do it.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, wiping one cheek dry with his sleeve. “I-it's over, Morty. You don't have to… to do that.” Rick feels silly talking like this. Gently like this. He would be embarrassed, but it's a dream, and he can handle feeling silly. “I didn't know I hated seeing you cry this much.” He wipes the other cheek.

“I thought that was you,” Morty sighs, relieved but still clearly foggy-minded at the strange dream logic.

Then Morty smiles at Rick, and it's a beautiful post-tears smile that stabs Rick right in the heart. If they were awake, Rick would punish the boy because how dare the little punk make an old, cold heart warm up. But this… this is a dream. And he could kiss those pretty, pouty lips. Morty will think it's just a dream.

But it's Morty's dream. And it would be deceitful, making Morty think there's something sick in his subconscious when it's really Rick who's the sick one, and… fuck. He's doing it. Rick has no impulse control and… fuck…

Even when Rick's hands tighten on Morty's shoulders, even when Rick leans in, the wide-eyed boy stays still. Rick doesn't close his eyes all the way. He has to see. See the way Morty's cheek blaze when Rick's lips touch his. Morty's body jerks, but his lips grow soft and soon his eyes slide closed. Rick knows he shouldn't. Shouldn't kiss again. Shouldn't turn his head just a touch to the right, his lips catching Morty's in a needy embrace. Shouldn't wrap his arm around Morty's slender body and grip his side to pull him closer.

But he does. And when Morty hums so prettily at Rick's kiss, Rick squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't deserve this, but self control has never been his strong suit. He touches between Morty's lips with the very tip of his tongue, and Morty's lips part with a shutter like he's not quite sure if it's the right move. But he's floating on dream logic so he's not too nervous to see what happens.

What happens is Rick's tongue dips into his mouth. It seems to fill his mouth with heat, sliding around his own tongue, rolling fat over and under. Rick just keeps swirling, around and around as Morty breathes in gasps at his intrusion. Neither wants to stop. Rick wants to feel and taste every curve of Morty's mouth, so hot and wet and his. Still, there's something like TV static to the contact, dulling it because it's a dream, and there's very little to smell even this close. But if this is as close as Rick's ever gonna get, he'll deal with it. He'll deal with it because kissing Morty like this is already more than he should ever allow himself.

Rick doesn't see when Morty's eyes crack open, hazy and lustful. But when Morty pulls his head out of the kiss, Rick grunts and looks at him. Morty's doughy brown eyes dance between Rick's, and he breathes, “'s a dream.”

Rick doesn't mean to, but his grip on Morty's side tightens. Morty continues, his words like sleep talk:

“This is a dream. I couldn't… c-couldn't read my phone.”

Rick bends and rubs his face on Morty's shoulder, grinning with silent laughter. He's proud of Morty, even if it did take him longer than what would have been useful. Unfortunately, the dream has to end now. Rick can't risk Morty figuring him out. From behind Morty's shoulder where Morty can't see, he reaches into his ear and pulls the inceptor out.

Rick blinks awake and sees that he's drooled on Morty's floor. He stamps it with his foot as he stands, and when he looks at Morty, still sleeping, he sees that he's drooled a sizable puddle on his pillow. Rick smiles. He shouldn't have done it, but fuck it. He did.

He takes the inceptor from Morty's ear and leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out [this super awesome, super cute fan comic](http://triplex-tyrant.tumblr.com/post/140670232270/month-of-sin-day-1) for this chapter by tumblr user minimorty!


	2. Until We Sleep Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March 2nd, prompt: ~Morty sleeping in Rick's bed~

One of the perks of Morty's secret relationship with Rick was that Rick's room was no longer off limits. It wasn't that he had never been allowed in Rick's room before. He was, so long as Rick was the one dragging him in there. But now the two spent significantly more time together there, sharing each other's company where they wouldn't be bothered or overheard. Still, Morty was only now realizing that he'd never been in Rick's room without Rick around. He might not have even thought about it if he hadn't happened to come home from school to find Rick absent, and deciding to take some initiative in their relationship, he opened Rick's door and entered the storage-room-turned-bedroom.

And really, storage room was still what this room felt like what with all the cardboard boxes that Rick used in place of proper dressers and shelving. Morty wasn't one to snoop, so he only poked his nose in the boxes whose tops were already open. There were stacks of CD cases, a small record collection (did Rick even own a player?), and lots of wires. As well as some random articles of clothing. The idea came to Morty to ask Rick about some of his stuff. Sure, he'd have to deal with Rick ragging him for being too young and unknowing, but that was just one of the quirks of being with someone so much older.

Some of Rick's knick-knacks looked entirely alien, and not wanting to mess with something that could potentially cause a problem, Morty sat himself on Rick's cot. Rick's room wasn't very cozy. Even with the lights on, the room felt dim. The cot was no help. The springs in the frame were tight and good, but when he reclined, he noted how thin the blanket and mat were, and Rick's one pillow seemed too small for Morty's tastes.

He began rocking side to side, trying to find a more comfortable position and failing. He couldn't imagine sleeping here regularly, and he figured Rick might be due a scolding for never upgrading to a real bed. He rolled onto his side, back to the wall, and stuffed Rick's pillow into the crook of his neck. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. It smelled like Rick, and a fuzzy feeling bloomed in his stomach not because it was the scent of his lover, but because it was the scent he only really became so acquainted with since they fumbled into this chapter of their relationship. It wasn't the stink of booze or the spice of deodorant. It was the musk Morty associated with the warmth of Rick's embrace, being pressed against his chest or burying his face in the nape of his neck. Crazy enough, Morty could almost imagine falling asleep like this.

Which clearly he did, because he woke with a start at Rick kicking the leg of the bed. His heart jumped out of his chest and his eyes snapped open, seeing Rick with his hands on his hips and a grin on his face.

“Who said you could sleep in my room? And mess up my bed?”

Morty sat up, chuckling. “Hey Rick,” he said, still a little groggy. Then he made a show of stretching, grunting as he rose his hands over his head and twisted. “Oh man. How do you sleep on this thing?”

“Mm,” Rick hummed, licking his lips and putting a knee on the bed, running his hands up under Morty's shirt, over his torso and sides. “I know you're talking, but I'm too distracted by your s-sexy stretching here.”

Morty's belly jerked at Rick's tickling touch, and he grabbed his arms, pulling Rick onto the bed beside him. “I was saying your bed sucks. How do you sleep on this every night?”

“You seemed to be doing a fine job,” Rick said, laying back with his arms crossed over his torso, close to the wall to give Morty room to sit. “When you stay up until you physically can't anymore, comfort, y'know, d-doesn't really matter.”

Morty frowned at this. “Doesn't exactly sound healthy, Rick.”

“It's better than that bullshit part of trying to go to sleep that involves _not_ being asleep. I-it's a waste of my time, Morty. I've got better things to do.” Rick tugged at Morty's arm until he got the message and laid himself down against Rick, head snug in that spot between Rick's shoulder and chest.

Morty snuggled in, wrapping his legs around Rick's, and Rick hugged him close, lacing their fingers and forcing Morty even closer. Morty placed his other hand on Rick's chest, and Rick's hand came over it, large and comforting, thumb stroking Morty's little fist. Then Rick closed his eyes and planted a kiss on Morty's forehead, breathing him in.

“Might not be so bad,” Rick said, “if I could sleep like this.”

At this, Morty smiled wide. He still wasn't quite used to just how sweet Rick could be when they were all alone, but he didn't exactly want to be either. “It'll be nice,” he said, looking at their hands on Rick's chest, “w-when we can sleep together. I-in the same bed every night.”

Rick didn't speak. He just squeezed Morty tighter because he still couldn't allow himself to believe Morty wouldn't eventually grow apart from him. Wouldn't grow to resent him for all this. It was something he considered an inevitability. One he'd rather not lie awake at night thinking about. He'd rather distract himself until he passed out (from exhaustion or otherwise) than lie awake thinking about it.

They stayed like that for a good while, just holding each other. Talking a little. Just being comfortable. That night, after Morty got ready for bed, he knocked on Rick's door. When Rick opened it, he was met with Morty holding out a pillow in his hands.

“Here.”

“What's this for?” Rick asked, taking the pillow.

“I have another, and I just thought you might,” Morty blushed a little here, “M-might like sleeping with one. It's bigger than yours and… I kinda liked sleeping on yours earlier so I thought you might like it, too.”

Rick rolled his lips, feeling oddly warmed. “Sure, whatever you want.”

Morty scratched the back of his head. “Until we can sleep in the same bed.”

“Sure.”

“Well. Goodnight.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Morty.”

Rick closed the door and threw the pillow on the bed, then stared at it. He hadn't planned on going to bed. He was going to drink and thumb through some files until he got bored or until his body gave out. But because Morty offered it, Rick decided to at least put the pillow to use for a few minutes.

He patted the pillow down over his own and laid himself down. Admittedly, it was softer. But that wasn't as important as what Rick felt turning his face into it and breathing Morty's scent. He knew it'd be there, that comforting salty sweet mix. But that was just it. It _was_ comforting. It was second-hand, but the essence was still warm and soft and Morty.

Rick tugged the pillow down until he was more hugging it than lying on it. He buried his face in it and squeezed his eyes shut, and his heart ached. It ached, but… it was good. Like it was too full, which was a stupid thought. This was just a pillow.

But it wasn't just a pillow. It was Morty's offer. An offer that he would be there with Rick one day, sleeping in his arms. And for the first time in a long time, Rick drifted off to sleep with pleasant thoughts.


	3. Seeing Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March 3rd prompts ~A Pocket Mortys RickMorty pairing of your choice~ ~Beach Day!~
> 
> These both sounded great, so I had to combine them. My pairing is Storage Rick/Swimmer Morty. I really like how this came out, so I hope you enjoy!

“Shut your yaps, kids!” Storage Rick shouted down the hall, not caring which of the communal bedrooms the blabbing was coming from. “Quiet hours. You don't have to go to sleep, but keep it down.”

The chattering Mortys lowered their volume, and Rick gave a satisfied nod, clicking a toothpick against his teeth with his tongue as he walked to the end of the hall and shut off the lights. He made his way to the front desk, switching on his desk lamp before turning off the main overhead light. He was just about to sit down when he realized that the porch light for the play yard was still on.

Just outside the glass sliding door, a Swimmer Morty lay on his back in a round kiddie pool, his legs and arms flopped out over the side, bare fingers and toes playing in the grass. He heard the door slide open behind him and flipped around onto his belly.

“Turn this light off when you come in, OK,” Rick said.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

Rick closed the door, and Morty rolled back around. Rick returned to his desk, pulling out the paper work he needed to finish and turn in to the Council in the next few days. About an hour later, he was finishing up and it was nearing midnight, and the Swimmer Morty still had yet to come in for the night.

Morty had been staring at the sky. There wasn't much to see through the glass domes that covered the Citadel. Even when the artificial lighting was turned down for “night” the light pollution from the Citadel's active night-life left the view mostly blank and unimpressive. A few blots of starlight in the black sky. He heard the door slide open again, and he turned his head to watch as Rick, without acknowledging him, grabbed a plastic chair and planted it beside the pool. He sat, sticking his legs out and crossing them at the ankles.

“Star gazing?” Rick asked, looking up.

Morty shifted in the water. In the past two weeks he'd spent in the Morty Day Care, he'd never had a one-on-one conversation with this Rick. Even though this Rick seemed more laid back than some, he could still get snappy and intimidating. “Yeah but,” Morty said, scooping some water over his chest, “c-can't really see too many stars out here.”

Rick gave a noncommittal grunt, followed by a silence that Morty wasn't very comfortable with. He didn't know if Rick was expecting him to talk, and the pressure of it left his mind blank. Trying, he said, “I-it's nice out.”

“So you like swimming,” Rick said, ignoring Morty's attempt at conversation.

Morty sat up a little. “Oh. Uh, yeah! It's fun. And you know, relaxing.”

“Your Rick take you swimming?”

Now Morty sunk again until his chin dipped in the water. “Noo. He… thinks it's a waste of time. He'd rather me give it up so I'll be more available when he needs to use me.”

For the first time since he came outside, Rick looked at Morty. He chewed on his toothpick, thinking of the countless Ricks like this he'd met in his time, viewing their Mortys like tools instead of family. If _he'd_ ever had a Morty of his own…

“Wanna see some stars?” Rick asked, sounding disinterested as he looked to the sky again.

“What?”

“Stars. D-do you wanna go somewhere we can actually look at some?”

“Um. A-are you allowed to do that? Just take off in the middle of the night?”

“Do you wanna go or not? You're doing a good job of talking me out of it. Wouldn't wanna break any rules.” Rick waved his hands.

Morty rose to his feet. “Yeah! I'd… really like that. Jee Rick, that's really nice of you.”

Rick headed for the door. “Wait there. I'll get my portal gun.”

When they stepped through the portal, Morty found himself on a beautiful starlit beach surrounded by woods on all sides. In the night, the blue sands looked a royal purple, and the lake glistened with the reflections of innumerable stars. It was warm with a light, summery breeze.

“Woah,” Morty whispered in awe.

Rick had carried his lawn chair through the portal, and he stuck it firmly in the sand before sitting down. “There ya go. Stars, water. G-go wild.”

“Wow Rick!” Morty beamed at him. “This is great. Th-thanks.”

Rick felt foolish when his cheeks heated at that. “Don't get used to it.”

Morty turned and ran for the lake, letting the water reach his thighs before diving into it. From his seat, Rick watched Morty bob around. He swam out to where the lake became deep, then stopped, letting his arm floats hold his weight while he watched the sky. Suddenly, a fat streak of light darted across the sky, and Morty splashed and jumped.

“Did you see that?” Morty called.

“What?”

Morty swam closer to the shore. “That huge shooting star! It was giant!”

“I wasn't looking. But hey, bet you're glad I didn't listen to you not wantin' to come out here.”

Morty dipped his chin in the water, hiding his smile. He blew some bubbles, thinking he was starting to really like this Rick. An idea came to him, and he rose up. “Hey Rick, w-why don't you come swimming for a little bit?”

“Kid, if I wanted to splash around, I'd do it in a bathtub with a hottie or two pouring rum down their tits.”

Morty pouted, then said, “It's OK if you can't swim or something.” Then he grinned. “I can let you use my floats.”

Rick snorted at that. He stood up and put his toothpick in his shirt pocket. “Don't you turn this into a competition, Morty. I'll waste your ass.” He pulled his shirt off, followed by the rest of his clothes. Morty laughed, covering his eyes until Rick walked into the water passed his waist. “God, it's cold,” Rick said, shuttering as he stepped up to Morty, the water at his ribs now. He splashed an armful at the boy.

With a laugh, Morty splashed back, soaking the rest of Rick. Then he hopped up and down. “We should race!”

Rick hummed. “Are you gonna cry when you lose?”

“So you're in? We'll go out a ways and race to the shore.”

Rick couldn't help but feel pleasant at Morty's heightened mood. He shrugged. “Fine,” he said, and was surprised when Morty pulled his floats off and ran them to the beach. When he came back, Rick said, “You don't need those?”

“Not if I wanna win,” Morty replied before taking a deep breath and diving under the water. A moment later, he popped back up much further out. “Come on!” he yelled.

Rick rubbed his forehead, realizing his chances of winning might be a bit lower than he thought. At their starting point, Morty beamed with eager determination, but Rick wasn't going to give him any satisfaction. “On your go, Morty,” he said, sounding cheeky.

“OK,” Morty said. “Ready. Go!”

Morty dove forward, but before he could kick off, he felt a sudden weight come over his back, as well as a long arm wrapping around his torso and turning him over out of the water. Rick had grabbed him and was pulling him along in a very sloppy sidestroke. Morty coughed and yelled, “Rick!”

“If I touch the shore with you behind me like this, I win,” Rick said, already panting at the effort.

Morty flailed, trying to break out of Rick's hold. “Rick! Not fair! You're cheating!”

“Quiet Morty. I'm trying to concentrate.”

“I'm gonna,” Morty said, starting to laugh, “I'm gonna kick you in the balls.”

They never made it to the shore before their struggling devolved into the two of them splashing at each other and trying to dunk one another. Rick couldn't remember the last time he'd gone swimming or had so much fun doing something so physical that didn't involve a climax. When they finally agreed that it was probably a good idea to head home, they waded toward the shallow water. “It's a shame we can't do this more,” Morty said, feeling a little guilty that he might sound ungrateful.

Suddenly, Rick bolted passed Morty, running onto the beach. He turned around and threw his arms in the air. “Ah whadya know, Morty? I won! Totally k-kicked your ass. Eat it, Morty.”

Morty gaped. “W-w-what?! You can't be serious. Th-that doesn't even count! If we'd been racing for real, I would have won and you know it.”

Rick snatched up his underwear, and as he stuffed his legs in, he said, “I don't know shit. Looks like… m-maybe we'll have to have a rematch sometime.”

At that, Morty's eyes grew wide, and Rick could see the stars reflecting in them. “Do you really mean that? That'd be awesome!”

Rick sneered, looking away as he stuck his toothpick back in his mouth and bit down on it. “Just try not to piss me off in the next few days and we'll see,” he said, pulling the portal gun from his back pocket and shooting a portal. The next day left Rick with aching muscles, but he somehow found himself not hating it. Especially when a certain Swimmer Morty kept finding reasons to hang around the front desk with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out[ this super adorable fan art](http://triplex-tyrant.tumblr.com/post/140464072840/storage-rickswimmer-morty-month-of-sin-day-3) for this chapter done by tumblr user minimorty!


	4. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March 4th prompt ~Rick taking care of Morty after a fight~
> 
> Instead of some high-stakes, sci-fi fight, I decided to go with sibling bickering. Rick and Morty are in a (secret) relationship at this point. Enjoy!

Every once in a while, Rick was forced to remember that no matter how old or mature his grandkids might at times seem, the siblings still had a tendency to bring out a petty childishness in each other. On this particular occasion, he wouldn't have had the privilege of being privy to it had he not been rummaging in the kitchen for a snack at that moment.

“Hey!” Morty's voice rang out from the living room. “I was watching that!”

“You literally did nothing but lay around on the couch watching TV yesterday. Fair's fair.” Summer had a point. Morty had been sick with a stomach virus the past couple of days, and he'd taken the living room to be closer to the kitchen and bathroom.

“No. When I wasn't sleeping, I was puking and crapping my guts out. You weren't even _here_. How would you know?” Another good point. Rick had been annoyed by Morty's state and had taken Summer out to a movie.

“I've been talking about this season premiere for forever,” Summer said, and Rick definitely understood that feeling.

“I don't care! Give me back the remote, Summer!”

And now the good points were over. And since Beth and Jerry were out, Rick figured it was his duty to step in and tell them to shut up. He found them on the couch, Summer sitting against the arm with the remote held out behind her and her knee up to keep Morty from getting to it.

“Ew, don't touch me,” Summer said, “I don't want your germs.”

Rick stepped around the couch, but before he could say anything, Morty drew a rattle from his throat and spat a foamy glob that landed on Summer's neck. Summer cried out in disgust and kicked Morty off, knocking the wind out of him. “What the fuck, Morty!” she snapped, pulling the collar of her shirt up to wipe her neck.

“Will both of you shut the hell up with the bickering?” Rick finally said. “You're making _me_ sick listening to it. And Morty, stop acting like a brat. It's embarrassing.”

Morty scowled, gnawing on his lower lip before getting to his feet. “Fine, I'll just leave. Since neither of you wants me around.” With that, he rounded the couch and stomped off for the stairs, leaving a smug Summer and an irritated Rick.

It wasn't long before Rick went up to his room after him, knocking without waiting for a response before opening the door. He found Morty bundled under his covers with his front pressed to the wall. He closed the door and sat on the side of the bed.

“What's with the pissiness, Morty?” he asked.

There was a short pause before Morty quietly replied, “Don't talk to me like I'm a child, Rick. I _hate_ that. You know I hate that.”

This was true. One of Morty's requirements early on in the development of their secret relationship was that Rick had to treat him “like an adult. An equal. Or at least like someone you met when they were already grown.” Rick had complied with understanding, even if it could be hard sometimes. Not only at times like this, but because in a way Morty would always be his grandson, and that naively boyish kid he'd grown stupidly attached to. But Rick didn't express these feelings. Instead he said:

“You make it hard not to when you act like a spoiled fuckin' brat.” His tone held no heat despite his harsh words, but when Morty didn't reply, Rick placed a hand on his shoulder. Under the covers, Morty tensed and balled himself up, so Rick asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

Morty mumbled, “No. But I know you want to.”

“You don't know what I wanna do,” Rick replied, sounding mildly annoyed at the assumption.

“You did yesterday.” Now, Morty turned to face Rick, his fingers moving to idly poke at Rick's knee through the cover. “You left me to take Summer to the movies. I thought that was _our_ thing.”

“We've gone out with Summer lots of times.”

“Not just the two of you,” Morty explained.

“So you're jealous? Yeesh. Can't say that's very becoming of you.”

Morty pushed himself up and scowled at Rick. “Summer kept bragging about it! I _tried_ to be mature, but she kept running her mouth.” He lowered his cheek to Rick's shoulder. “I thought m-maybe you'd wanna stay with me and… take care of me or something.”

Now Rick felt a bit guilty. “I woulda just kept you up.”

Morty gave a half-hearted shrug, and Rick understood that he must have been lonely. Although Rick would never admit it, he knew how bad it felt when Morty couldn't accompany him on an outing. And how especially gross it could feel when, at those times, Morty's attention was preoccupied with someone else.

“See, told you,” Rick began, pulling himself up to the headboard. “Y-you have no idea what I wanna do.” He spread his legs around Morty and pulled at him until he laid himself down like Rick wanted, head resting on Rick's inner thigh. Rick traced his fingertips over the lines and curves of Morty's face, making the boy scrunch up against the tickling sensation, a small, breathy chuckle escaping him. Rick grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief and fondness, and he said, “I wanna sit here and hold you. And make you feel good so you can hurry up and get better already so we can go on adventures again.”

Morty felt a warmth in his chest. He knew he didn't need to ask, but he did anyhow. “You d-don't wanna just take Summer?”

“Morty, try thinking before you ask a stupid question,” Rick said as if this were an issue of utmost importance. “Th-this isn't some- We're not talking about going to the movies or out for burgers and ice cream. We're talking about _adventures_ , Morty.” Then Rick stuck two fingers in the crook of Morty's neck, and Morty choked with laughter as he writhed and slammed his shoulder to his jaw. Rick added, “And those are _our_ thing.”

When Morty smiled up at Rick, his face red and hair a mess from dragging it against Rick's thigh and crotch, he was a bit sheepish with guilt. How could he believe Rick's time with Summer could at all compare to these affections he showed only to him?

“Thank you,” Morty said quietly.

Rick bent himself down, grunting as he tried to reach Morty for a kiss. Morty brightened, raising his head up to meet him. Their lips touched, short and chaste but enough to send a wave of giddy warmth through Morty's body. It wasn't until he put his head back down that he realized he shouldn't be risking Rick's health for kisses, but before he could express his concern, Rick, still bent over him, let out a rumbling, throat rending belch that bared his teeth and zonked his eyes, sending a stench of liquor rushing down Morty's nose.

“Rick!” Morty exclaimed, wiping his arm over his face. “Way to ruin the moment. Jeez...”

Rick snickered, trailing his fingers over Morty's jaw. Down his neck. Following his collar bone under his shirt before palming down his chest. Morty sighed into the touch, eyes fluttering closed as Rick ran his hands back up, one hand coming up to play with an ear. Rick didn't know what Morty was talking about. This moment felt great.


	5. Holding on Tightly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one really got away from me, and it's so sappy that I wanna stick my head in a toilet for writing it. Haha! But I'm also kinda proud of it, so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> March 5th prompt ~Morty asking Rick to the dance~ Instead of "the" dance, we're going with Morty asking for lessons.

It wasn't his fault. That's what Morty kept telling himself. It wasn't his fault that he had, after spending so much time with his grandfather, begun to develop some sort of affinity for the old bastard. It wasn't Morty's fault that so many of the things that used to irritate the Hell out of him – those mindless belches, the endless rants, the constant teasing – became the things that made Morty grin stupidly to himself when he so much as thought about them. Nobody could be so simultaneously brilliant and idiotic, all with that impenetrable air of confidence that Rick practically gushed. Yeah, Morty had it bad, and in the worst way he could imagine. And worst of all, he'd allowed this attraction to fester for far too long. It was overwhelming.

That's why he was going to ask Jessica to the Valentine's dance. If there were any way to get over his incestuous crush, it was to focus his attention on his _other_ crush. A more reasonable crush, albeit one that had faded significantly as of late. Still, asking was just as nerve-wracking as ever, he realized as he walked toward her after the final bell rang. But she had recently become single again, and the two had danced before, so with the odds tilted a little more in his favor, he gathered his courage.

“I'm sorry, Morty,” Jessica replied, hugging her books to her chest. “But I already promised my friends that we'd have a singles' night.”

“O-oh. No, that's… I understand.” It was nice as far as rejections go, but it still hurt.

Jessica smiled. “Hey! But if I see you there, I'll save you a dance. A slow dance.”

“I'll be there!”

“Cool.”

Morty looked forward to impressing his family with his V-day plans. They didn't have to know that those plans only amounted to one dance. But it was going to be a _slow_ dance. And with Jessica. The stomach butterflies kicked up at the thought.

Morty dropped his backpack off in his room before hurrying to the living room where he found Rick sitting on the couch, one arm on the rest with the other thrown behind the back, one leg stretched out on the coffee table. And damn it all if Morty didn't find the way he splayed out like he ruled the place so alluring.

Rick brought his gaze lazily to Morty, and his brow quirked at the expression on his face: exhilaration falling into discomfort. “W-w-what are you all out of breath for?”

Morty stepped over Rick's leg to sit beside him. “Guess who has a date for the Valentine's dance.”

Rick pulled his flask from his coat pocket and took a swallow. “I'll be sure to cong-uuuur-ratulate Summer.”

“The answer is me, you incredible ass,” Morty said, kicking Rick's leg off the table. “I asked Jessica!”

Rick took a few more drinks before pocketing his flask and giving Morty a grin. “Look at you, Mister… Mister hot-shot Valentine's dance guy. Get some! How'd you convince her? I mean, a Valentine's Day dance. Isn't that like the horny teenager's Oktoberfest?”

“Well,” Morty fiddled his fingers in his lap. “Between you and me, she just promised to share a dance with me since she's doing a singles' night with her friends. B-but it's a slow song! And sh-sh- _she_ was the one who offered!”

She did? Rick's fingers curled into the fabric of the couch and his teeth clenched behind thinned lips. He knew he'd have to deal with Morty hooking up eventually. But she could have just said no and let Rick have him for a little bit longer. If Jessica was offering to dance with him, what if she was willing to offer more? Rick knew Morty wouldn't be his forever, but he wasn't ready to acknowledge that his sick fantasies were entirely out of the realm of hypothetical possibility just yet.

“Hate to burst your bubble there, buddy,” Rick said, sounding impassive, “b-but Valentine's Day is this Sunday, no? Yeah, I'm gonna need you. Gotta… Gotta go on a trip and I need your help.”

“Well that's OK. The dance is on Friday.”

Rick suppressed a sneer, drumming his fingers on the edge of the couch arm. This was good though. He needed to let Morty have his own life. He didn't need to be such a selfish ass.

“Hope you,” Rick started, impulse control nowhere to be found, “y'know, dance a little bit better than last time. I saw you slow dance. Gotta say, I'm surprised she wants to dance with you after that time. That time with… when I was Tiny Rick.”

“W-what was wrong with how I danced?” Morty asked, voice thick with worry.

Rick rubbed his forehead. He could bite his damn tongue off. “Nothing.”

“No, don't tell me nothing.”

“Seriously. Don't worry about it. I was exaggerating.” Rick went to stand and walk off, but Morty rose after him and grabbed his arm.

“Teach me,” he said firmly. Then, more hesitant, “i-if you think I'm bad, I'd rather get better.”

Rick stared at Morty, trying to stay disinterested. He needed to jerk his arm away. To tell Morty he wasn't going to waste his time. But his gaze broke away and he said, “Hold on.”

In immediate hindsight, Morty knew this was a bad idea. Practicing dancing with Rick? Totally counter productive to the whole reason he'd asked Jessica to the dance in the first place. But about twenty minutes after Rick went off down the hallway, a portal opened in the living room, and he stepped out. Morty did a double take, looking between Rick and the hallway.

“Where'd you go?”

Ignoring him, Rick exclaimed, “It's lesson time, bitch! Get your ass up!”

Morty jumped up, excited to see Rick on board. Rick stepped back through the portal, and Morty followed after.

Where he stepped onto was someplace beautiful. Nighttime on a flat mountain top that overlooked countless trees on all sides, other flat-topped mountains taller and shorter jutting out at various places. The ground below his feet was like smooth obsidian. But to Morty, the most impressive sight was what Rick had added. Strung out in a wide circle around them were strings and strings of Christmas lights, a mismatch of icy bluish LED and incandescent-yellowish bulbs, hanging like webbing between several three feet tall metal poles. These, along with a sizable stereo, were plugged into a large battery. Morty gawked at Rick.

And Rick knew it was stupid. Not to mention entirely too sappy for his comfort. He was embarrassed at his own effort, but he knew how to play it off, and he pulled a small remote from his coat pocket, waving it.

“Alright, Morty. We're gonna get straight to this. Luckily for you, I'm great at everything I do, including dancing.” He pushed a button, and the stereo came to life with the sound of violins and violas. Rick held out his right hand, palm down.

Morty reached hesitantly as the orchestra built, and Rick snatched it, holding it up so his own, much larger hand, rested on top. “I'm assuming you'll be leading Jessica?” he said, putting his other hand on Morty's right shoulder just as Frank Sinatra's smooth voice sang:

_Strangers in the night, exchanging glances. Wandering in the night. What were the chances?_

Morty swallowed hard. Rick's hand felt heavy on his shoulder, yet strangely gentle. “Oh, y-yeah.” His left hand settled over Rick's coat at his hip.

_We'd be sharing love before the night was through._

Rick laughed. “You tryin'a cop a feel?”

Morty blushed furiously. “No!”

Rick grabbed his arm and moved Morty's hand a bit higher so that it rested below his left shoulder blade. Then Rick put his hand back on Morty's shoulder. In position now, Morty felt his body grow warm, and he hoped that Rick couldn't feel it. But the heat, as well as Rick's expectation for him to lead, were making him nervous. Then Rick squeezed his hand, and when Morty's eyes jumped from the chest in front of him up to Rick's eyes, Rick gave a small but firm nod. So Morty started.

_Strangers in the night. Two lonely people. We were strangers in the night. Up to the moment when we said our first hello. Little did we know..._

Together they stepped, two-one two-one, swaying gently. “Your feet are fine,” Rick said, his voice intimate, so low and steady that a hot wave danced through Morty. “But you've gotta be more sure of yourself. Confidence. Be firm, or I won't know where to go. And… n-neither will Jessica.”

“...Jessica.”

Rick's gut clenched, but only because he didn't know that Morty had only said her name in surprise that she was so far from his mind right now. All he could think about was how strange this was, holding onto Rick right now. Dancing with him. Staring up into his clear, stern eyes, music filling the air as he gave small instructions: “Torso firm.” “Arms too.” “Stop bending your elbow. Your hands and body should stay the same distance.”

_It turned out so right for strangers in the night._

“Hey Rick,” Morty said as the song went into its instrumental section. “Who is this?”

Rick chortled. “Are you kidding me, Morty? It's Frank Sinatra. You don't know Frank Sinatra?”

“I know the name,” Morty said defensively. “I just didn't know that's who this was.”

“I grew up listening to him. I can't believe you never… y-you were never acquainted with this sexy ass motherfuckin' voice. Just listen to that, mmm, ear candy.”

Morty listened to the music, eyes scanning the picturesque scenery, turning them so that he could admire the lights that Rick had put out. Put out for _him_.

_Love was just a glance away. A warm embracing dance away._

Morty looked up at Rick again, their eyes meeting once more. Morty felt as if they were gliding. As the music picked up, so did their movement. Starting off, Morty had had that look of nervous concentration, but now his face was relaxed and Rick could see how handsome the boy was becoming. Rick felt his heart speed up, so he moved his gaze to their joined hands, swallowing hard as he became all too conscious of the amount of pressure he was holding Morty's hand with. It was an effort now not to squeeze harder or slacken enough to make the boy aware in the first place. Luckily for Rick, the song was fading, and he pulled away just as the music stopped.

“W-was that OK?” Morty asked, hands pulling to his chest.

Rick pushed pause on the remote, then rubbed roughly at one eye. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, you were fine, Morty. Just do that and you're good to go.”

He knew this was a stupid idea, letting himself do something as pointless and self-indulgent as dancing with his grandson. Even knowing it was meaningless, he'd gone and let himself get caught up in the moment. It was the damn song. Or this stupid fucking scenery. What was he thinking, dragging all these lights out to this secluded place?

“Um, y'know,” Morty started. “I'm not sure I'll be ready from just… j-just one song's worth of practice.” Rick's brow rose, and Morty continued, “Can we maybe do one more?”

Rick rolled his eyes to the side. It would be better to call it a night. Instead he said, “Whatever.” He reached in his pocket and pushed play with a hand that shivered with an anxiousness he'd hoped he was old enough and smart enough to be rid of. Not wanting to risk holding Morty's hand again, he put both hands on Morty's shoulders, and when Morty put his hands on his hips, Rick took a deep breath.

When the music started, Morty smiled. Not only was it a song he knew, but it was a singer he'd introduced to Rick. With more confidence now, Morty led Rick to the piano that led up to Meg Myers's sweet cadence.

_Just wanna dance with you all night, when everyone has their disguise. I'll show you my heart is real. I'll show you how this could feel._

Their steps were slower this time, and Rick almost hated how well Morty was leading now. How they were becoming the only stationary point while the mountains and trees rotated all around them. Just Rick and Morty. Rick and Morty for a hundred years.

_When it's cold, I just wanna feel your touch. When it's cold, there's nobody else I'd rather know._

Rick and Morty forever and ever.

_I'm falling in deep. Do you already know? My love is after you._

“Jeez Rick,” Morty said. “You're the one saying I need to be more confident, but your eyes are going everywhere. Are you OK?”

Rick's grip on Morty tightened. “Shut up, Morty.”

Morty almost thought he heard pain in Rick's voice. And there was something like sadness in his eyes.

_My heart skips a beat._

“I gotta admit,” Morty said, hoping to brighten the mood, “you can be a pretty good teacher sometimes.”

Rick smirked. “Damn straight, dawg. Although, to be totally honest,” he drummed his fingers on Morty's shoulders, “maybe you weren't as terrible as I said.”

“R-really?”

“Still bad,” Rick said. “Stiff as fuuuck. But not terrible.”

Morty smiled warmly, and Rick couldn't help but return it. Because dammit, he felt warm. And as for Morty, he'd long since decided to put off returning his affections to Jessica until tomorrow. Or maybe until the dance. He just wanted to be with Rick right now. But he knew how he was. Just one more day. That's what he always told himself. Just one more day of wanting Rick. Of loving him.

The song faded, and the two broke apart. Now Morty's cheeks burned, and he found that he couldn't keep his eyes on Rick's. He looked down and laughed. “Uh, I guess that's the end.”

“Yeah,” Rick said. It was a shame. That it had to end. That he'd let it happen at all. But then the next track began, a twittering of flutes and violins, and Rick grinned when Morty's face scrunched at the strange familiarity of it.

“Is this… Disney?”

Rick smirked, stepping up and snatching Morty around the waist, left hand grabbing up Morty's right, and he pulled the boy along to the quick and fanciful tunes. And when Briar Rose sang, Rick sang along, bounding with Morty in tow:

“I know you. I walked with you once upon a dream!”

Morty laughed, unable to catch his breath as Rick jerked him about by the waist, their fingers tightly laced.

“I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. Yet I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem.”

Morty's feet stumbled as Rick galloped from one side of the circle to the other. “Rick!” he yelped, clutching Rick's hand and shoulder for dear life, his heart pounding right out of his chest because of it, and because Rick was holding him so close.

“But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once,”

And just as Prince Phillip's voice joined in, Rick bent down and wrapped both arms around Morty's hips, lifting him up and spinning him around, Morty's hands gripping Rick's shoulders while he laughed, wide-eyed and red-faced.

Now eye level, Rick finished, his voice failing on him at the sight of the boy, “the way I did once upon a dream...”

Each heart beat fast against the other's. Lost in each other's eyes, they barely paid mind to the music as they tried to catch their breath. Morty saw Rick's tongue dart out, and his eyes stuck to his lips, thin and no longer smiling, and God how he wanted to…

Rick let Morty slide out of his arms until he was on his feet again, then he backed away, pushing the power button on the remote in his pocket. “Th-that's enough screwing around. Why don't you go… go off and be a kid or something while grandpa gets all this shit put up,” he said pleasantly enough as he pulled out his portal gun and shot a portal to the living room.

“Oh, uh… Sure,” Morty said, his mind reeling and body coming down from floating. “You don't want help?”

“Nah, I got it.”

“OK.” Morty walked to the portal, then turned back. “This was nice. Uh! Y-you teaching me, I mean. I-i-it was… it was all really nice.”

“Sure Morty. Any time.”

Morty smiled, then went on through the portal. It was strange going from a mountain top at night to home where it was only early evening, but Morty was used to strange. What was really strange, he realized, was that he was no longer excited about the dance on Friday. No matter how he tried to think about it, he just couldn't imagine that it would compare to the dances he'd just shared with Rick.

On the mountain top, Rick sat and watched the horizon through the strings of lights. He clasped his hands together, but they were still cold without Morty. He pulled out the remote and started back up "Strangers in the Night," remembering how it felt to dance with Morty. How close he'd gotten to letting himself do something he'd sworn he'd never do.

He wondered what Morty would think if he admitted that he had no errand on Sunday. He wondered what Morty would think if he just brought him back here again. He laughed. That would be a terrible idea. But so was this, and that didn't stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs used were  
> ["Strangers in the Night" by Frank Sinatra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHuko5BCFzA)  
> ["After You" by Meg Myers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFoKnSe7M4Y)  
> ["Once Upon a Dream" from Sleeping Beauty](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXbHShUnwxY) The soundtrack version doesn't have the talking bits.  
> Hey, Rick canonically seems to have eclectic music tastes.


	6. A Glint in the Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story is a direct sequel to the previous prompt's story (chapter 5). There are references made to it, so I recommend reading it first although it's not totally necessary. Enjoy!
> 
> March 6th prompt ~First kiss~

An explosion filled the garage with a noxious pink cloud that sent Rick and Morty into coughing fits. Rick had been dissolving a certain alien crystal in a solution in order to get to the core, but when the core touched the solution (because, as Morty saw it, Rick wasn't being nearly attentive enough for something so precise), a rattling blast shook the house as the fume blew out to every corner of the garage. Hacking and coughing, Morty waded blindly to the garage door button, and the pink cloud poured out, dissipating in the outside air.

Jerry threw open the connecting kitchen door. “What is going on in here?” he yelled.

Both still coughing, Rick fanned at the gas with a folder while Morty blinked rapidly and waved the air in front of his face.

“What does it look like?” Rick sneered. “When you work with alien rocks, y'know, things get unpredictable. It's how we learn things. I guess I shouldn't expect you to understand.”

“Oh please,” Morty said, finishing his fit with one last deep hack. His eyes were watering, and he rubbed at the left one. “This wouldn't have happened if you were paying attention to what you were doing.”

Rick slapped the folder down on the table. “Y-you're really going to blame this on me? Do you know how hard it is to focus when _you_ won't shut up about your pointless high school bullshit, _Morty_?”

Morty scoffed, and Jerry cut in. “Wait wait wait. Rick. It's bad enough you're setting off explosions in my garage. But to be so careless with Morty present? Don't tell me you do this regularly.”

The depths of Jerry's obliviousness were awe inspiring, and before Rick had a chance to clue him in, Morty jumped in. “Dad, d-don't worry. It was an accident, and nobody even got hurt.”

Jerry sighed. “OK, if you say so. Just, please no more explosions.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Rick said, and Jerry left them alone once more. “Come on, Morty. Let's...” Rick turned to the table. “Oh damn.” Sitting there on the wet table were the remains of the beaker they'd been dissolving the crystal in: just the base with a short ring of jagged edges coming up. Morty moved closer to see, his left eye still stinging from the blast. “Look around for the core. It's gotta- must have rolled off somewhere, assuming the explosion didn't use it up.”

They set to work looking for the little yellow bead, both scanning the corners and edges of the floor and under the washer and dryer. Morty didn't understand why Rick hadn't been watching the crystal more closely, or why he'd kept getting up to rummage through and rearrange his stuff. He had no idea that it was because Rick couldn't keep casual while listening to Morty's “pointless high school bullshit,” which Rick had said in reference to Morty bringing up the school dance he'd gone to a few weeks back. The Valentine's dance, where he'd gone to dance with Jessica. The one Rick had helped him practice for.

Of course, Rick didn't know that Morty was failing to convey that he didn't really enjoy the dance. Oh, he enjoyed dancing with Jessica very much. But the memory he always found himself returning to – the memory that still managed to make his stomach tingle and his mouth stretch to a grin of its own accord – was the memory of dancing with Rick. How many times would Frank Sinatra's “Strangers in the Night” show up on his browsing history?

Morty was looking under the gap at the bottom of the shelving unit when a sharp pain shattered through his left eye. He sat up quickly, stretching his lower lid down. The pain faded, and he blinked a few times without issue before bending back down. But when he turned his eyes again, the pain stabbed, and he shot up gasping as he widened his eye with his thumb and index finger.

“Got something in your eye?” Rick asked.

Morty rose to his feet to meet him. “I think it happened in the explosion. Ah!” His mouth gaped and he panted at the pain. Rick pushed his hand away, taking hold of his face and turning it up to the light. Rick's large hands covered his cheek and forehead, and Morty stilled at the attention, Rick's eyes on his one.

“W-where in your eye?” Rick asked, and Morty waved his left hand to indicate the outer side. “Look to the right.”

One of Rick's thumbs tugged down the lower lid while the other idly grazed his eyebrow. His face, so close as he inspected, looked stern in delicate concentration. Despite the pain, Morty felt very relaxed and engulfed by the intimacy of the contact. Morty could even feel the time of each little puff from Rick's nostrils, and his heart gave a flutter when he realized that they were practically sharing air.

“I… I don't feel it now,” Morty said, nearly whispered. Then he blinked and cringed. “Ah! No, i-it's still there. Do you see it?”

Rick's lips curved in a humored little smile, and he pulled Morty's eye open with more force this time. “Hold on. It's probably a bit of dirt or… Oh. OK, don't… don't freak out on me. You've got glass in you eye.”

“What?!” Morty squeaked, and when Rick released his face, Morty brought his hand up only for Rick to quickly smack it away.

“Don't! …rub it, dummy. Do you wanna scratch your eye?” Rick went to his shelf and dug around, bringing out a squeeze bottle that he opened and filled from another larger bottle. He finished and came back. “Lean your head back. Gonna wash it out with this. Saline solution. No big deal.”

“OK… Oh boy.” Morty shivered, eye open wide and unfocused as panic flooded him. Rick put a hand on his cheek, thumb under his chin to tilt his head back. Pulling Morty's eye open again, Rick lifted the squeeze bottle.

“Now this isn't… aren't going to be small drops. I'm pouring this over your eye, so don't blink.”

Morty braced himself, clenching his teeth and fists. The solution gushed over his eye, spilling down his cheek and neck and uncomfortably under the collar of his shirt. He held his breath, feeling submerged, and were it not for Rick's fingers, he would have slammed his eyes closed right away. But as soon as it started, it was over, and Morty was throwing his head down and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Don't rub!” Rick snapped in annoyance when Morty began to raise his fists to his face. “Here's a damn tissue to dry your face, you big baby.” Morty took the tissue from Rick's hand and wiped his cheek and neck. “Well?” Rick asked.

Morty blinked a few times, rolling his eyes about then looking at Rick. His shoulders slumped with relief, and he took a deep breath. “You got it.”

“Be glad it wasn't lodged in your eye. Lemme see.” He took Morty's face in his hands again, turning it to the side. “Looks fine. You should see how red your eye is though. Feel better?”

“Much,” Morty laughed. “That was terrifying. W-when you said I had glass in my eye?”

“Come on, Morty,” Rick began, still holding Morty's face even after releasing his lids. “Like I wouldn't have fixed you right back up.”

Then Morty wrapped a small hand around Rick's wrist, and Rick's eyes switched focus, no longer inspecting the eye but rather gazing into them. Large and brown, and staring at him with a neediness that matched his grip. Morty's lips trembled, then stilled, and Rick felt his own mouth go dry. He needed a drink. Or maybe something else, he thought hazily as he ran his tongue across his bottom lip.

Once again, they found themselves so close.

Morty took a whistling breath through his nose, squeezing the balled up tissue in his hand, then rose on his toes while Rick bent down to meet him. Their lips touched. Gently, tentatively, but entirely.

And short. Rick pulled back and jerked his arm away, turning around and leaving a dazed Morty, scared and heated, looking at a cold back.

“God dammit. God _dammit_!” Rick chucked the squeeze bottle and it smacked the floor, bouncing and spraying. Morty flinched. Rick refused to look at him as he turned and headed for the door, but he was halted when Morty wrapped two forceful arms around his torso, the overheated chest and cheek pressed to his back.

“Wait! I-ahhh-I'm sorry! I didn't m-m-mean to. Th-that wasn't- I got c-confused and...”

Rick was stumped. Why was Morty apologizing when _he_ was the one who bent down to kiss him? But he could take advantage of this. Call Morty a sick creep and walk off, then never talk about it again. Things would be just as they always were. Morty squeezed him tighter, hand on wrist, and he made a choked sound. “D-don't be disgusted with me. I won't be able to handle it.”

Now Rick grimaced. “Morty, let go of me.” Morty did, backing up and holding his hands to his chest. Rick began to reach for his flask pocket, then stopped. “Why did you do that?” Ashamed, Morty didn't know how to respond. “Answer me. T-tell me the truth, cause...” Rick turned around, his face deathly serious, and Morty shrank at it. “I need to know.”

Morty looked away. “It was an accident.”

“Well that's convenient. Good answer.”

The frown on Morty's face deepened, and he lowered his arms. “No. That's not true. I wasn't confused, Rick. It w-was on purpose. I wanted to do that for a long time, and now… y-you probably hate me.”

There was a moment of stiff silence. Then, with a grunt, Rick grabbed Morty and pulled him into a tight embrace. Morty's eyes widened, frozen on Rick's chest. “Are you fucking kidding me right now, Morty?” Rick said. “Y-you couldn't have said something before and saved me a whole lot of fucking frustration? What, you think- you think I like hearing you go on and on about your stupid school dance? You think I didn't have to stop myself from laying one on you a hundred times by now? That kiss wasn't just you, you little turd.”

Morty pulled back to look up at Rick, his face red and stunned, but he was more surprised to see the blush that had crawled across Rick's face. “Please don't be screwing with me right now.”

“That'd be a pretty fuckin' sick joke, Morty,” Rick said, his mouth twitching to a slanted grin.

“You're not disgusted then?”

“Look who you're talking to. A-and also, quit saying everything I've been thinking. It's weirding me out.”

Morty laughed. “C-can we do it again?”

“Do what?”

“Come on… You know.”

Now Rick's voice grew low, and he bent down to Morty as he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it.”

Morty grinned in his blush. “K-kiss me, Rick?”

Rick put his hands on either side of Morty's face, running his thumbs over the curves of his brow and cheeks. So intimate. “Can do,” he said, closing his lips over Morty's for the second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more prompt after this! Ahh! This has been so fun. Tune in tomorrow to see the final ficlet! Which I haven't written yet. Yep, started ahead of time and let the days catch up. Thank you to everyone who has read and commented. Especially those who read every chapter. Makes it all worth it.


	7. Cuddle Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final prompt of Fluff Week. I really enjoyed writing these ficlets! And thanks again to those who've read every chapter. The title for this story I got from an episode of Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack. So if you've seen that episode, you might have an insider's idea for what might happen.
> 
> March 7th prompt ~Rick and Morty asleep in each other's arms~

Rick and Morty had taken the ship to a far away planet for a weekend alone. It wasn't much of a camping trip with all the provisions they were bringing. Their food was all instant and could be prepared in the hatch of the ship, and the cooler was fully stocked with beer and soda and water bottles. But there was a lake a ways through the woods, and Morty had gotten Rick to agree to sleeping outside under the foreign stars, something the boy had never done before without a tent.

Yes, tonight was going to be a night of firsts. For example, their first time sleeping together. Well, in the literal sense. In the same bed. Or in this case, foam mats laid out to fit queen sized sheets. Up to this point, the most the two had experienced of sleeping together were short naps, usually in Morty's bed and usually after certain other affairs. They both agreed it was about time they got to have some real alone time over night without some high-stakes errand.

That day started wonderfully. The pine-like trees that they landed the ship among were a beautiful rusty red that made the woods appear ablaze when the sun shined through them. A dangerous sort of beauty. Morty was insistent that they go to the lake first thing. They spread their towel on the grass, and Morty pulled off his shirt, leaving him in his red and yellow swim trunks.

“Hold up, Morty,” Rick said, bending to sit cross-legged on the towel. He wore his white button-up shirt open, and his trunks were gray and baggy with cargo pockets. It was actually Morty who had asked him to don swimming attire. Rick had planned on simply stripping, but Morty's counter point was that he'd seen Rick stripped. He wanted to see his swim wear. And from what he was seeing, he liked it. Rick's clothes hung teasingly from his barely exposed chest and lanky legs.

Rick patted the towel in front of him. “Sit down r-uuur-ight here.” He opened one of the cargo pockets and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. “You'll cook under this sun if you're not smart about it.”

“Are you gonna put it on me?” Morty asked, sitting down with his back to Rick. “Thanks Rick. That's so sweet of you.”

Rick sputtered at the word “sweet” before splatting a greasy glob square on the center of Morty's back. Morty shivered at the slimy sensation. “There's no way I'm putting up with your parents giving me shit for letting you get skin cancer,” he said, then set to rubbing in the sunscreen. Rick took his time, but Morty didn't mind. He soothed at the massaging touch.

The day that started wonderfully continued just as well. Quality time alone without any life-threatening encounters. They swam. They ate. They explored the woods. But as the day wore on, the breezy but summery air gave way to a very muggy night.

“There,” Rick said, standing up and fanning both ends of his open shirt. “Shoulda… Shoulda got that taken care of before it got so fucking gross out here.”

Morty wiped his face with the damp towel he'd used to dry off earlier. “I thought it would be cooler at night.”

“Yeah, it's a bunch of fuckin' bullshit, isn't it?”

“Well,” Morty slapped his towel across the side of the ship to dry. “I guess I'm gonna change for bed.”

It was too uncomfortable to get all tangled up together, which they agreed was a shame. So instead the two lay on their backs a bit apart with their bare legs thrown over each other's while they stared at the stars through the pine trees. They talked and teased, and Rick agreed to fly them to the nearest town in the morning so Morty could see the unique inhabitants of the planet. It didn't take long for sleep to come, and Morty was deep in it when he woke with a start to Rick shoving him.

“Get off, Morty,” Rick groaned, pushing Morty off his chest where Rick's tank top had clung with sweat.

Morty blinked groggily and rolled away. His own T-shirt clung to his sweaty back. “S-sorry Rick. Musta done that in my sleep.”

“Whatever,” Rick said, yawning and rolling away before dozing right back off.

Morty fanned his shirt out, then closed his eyes to fall quickly back to sleep as well. Some time later, it was Morty who first woke to the unbearable sticky heat. Once again, he found himself with his face buried in Rick's chest, his arm thrown over. He pushed himself up, and Rick jerked awake. They were both caked in sweat.

“Morty...”

“I-I'm sorry,” Morty said, climbing off and sitting up.

“It's way too hot for this. If you don't stay on your side, I'm gonna make you sleep on the ground.”

Morty rolled his eyes. “Don't worry, I won't touch you for the rest of the weekend. How's that?”

“Perfect.”

Morty scowled and rolled away from Rick again, scooting to the edge of the mat. He heard Rick's breathing deepen in sleep again, and feeling dry-mouthed, Morty quietly rose, slipped on his sandals, and walked to the cooler. He opened a bottle of water and took several gulps. His shirt was damp and his legs felt sticky when they touched. He hoped the next morning would be nice again because this was just plain miserable.

After drinking half the bottle, Morty returned to the bed, resuming his position at the edge. He heard Rick stir lightly, letting out a little whimper before snoring, and Morty chuckled to himself. It wasn't often that he got to see Rick with lowered defenses, and realizing that, Morty felt a warmth in his heart. This trip was more of a gift that he'd thought.

Rick's snoring snorted to a halt when he rolled over toward Morty, his arms thrown over the gap between them. Morty heard his nails scratch at the sheets from where he was twitching in his sleep. With the heat, he understood why Rick was squirming and readjusting. Morty himself had one leg sticking off the bed and into the grass because it was cooler. But then Rick shoved up against his back, his arm falling over him and pulling him closer.

Morty's eyes bugged. “Rick?” he whispered, but Rick only breathed deeply. Morty could feel Rick's other arm shoved between them, and when he tried to readjust so that it wasn't jabbing so badly at the back of his ribs, Rick squeezed him harder. Morty turned his head, trying to look back at Rick, but Rick rolled over onto his back, pulling Morty with him so that Morty wound up awkwardly stuffed against his chest. “Rick,” he said, putting the only hand he could move on Rick's chest and shaking him.

Rick blinked awake, taking a deep, disoriented breath. “What, what? Get off me.” He pushed Morty off again, and Morty sat up.

“You're the one who pulled me onto you,” Morty said in triumph. “It was you. You're the one who should sleep on the ground!”

Rick wiped some drool from his cheek and scowled. “Yeah, I don't think so, Morty.”

“I was awake. You threw your arm over me, a-and then you rolled over and pulled me.” Morty chuckled. “You're a sleep cuddler.”

Rick looked back blankly, then he grabbed his pillow up and stood. “That's it. I'm sleeping in the ship where you can't bug me.”

“Wait!” Morty called. “Why? I didn't say it was a bad thing. I think it's-”

Rick pointed a stern finger in Morty's face. “If you fucking say what I think you're going to say, I'm gonna portal you to the top of one of these trees and leave you there.”

Morty looked amused and not the least bit threatened. “W-well, I still don't think it's a bad thing.” He held out his arms and waved his hands in request for a hug. It took a moment, but Rick tossed his pillow down and got on his knees to comply. “I like you holding me,” Morty said.

When they laid themselves down again, this time Morty put his head on the dip between Rick's chest and shoulder, the rest of his body angled away so they both had room to spread out. Rick squeezed Morty's upper arm, hugging him.

“Alright,” Rick said. “This… this is better.”

“Yeah,” Morty sighed, closing his eyes and smiling wide. It really was. Then, very quietly, Morty said, “Sweet.”

Suddenly, he felt the force of his pillow smacking down on his face, and he choked with laughter as Rick viciously shook him with it as if to suffocate him. When he stopped, Morty jerked the pillow away, tossing it out of Rick's reach, and they both shook with light laughter, staring at one another with unabashed fondness that was looked upon only by them and these distant stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! For those wondering if I'll be writing prompts for the upcoming weeks... uhh not all of them. I'm gonna try to do one or two for the NSFW weeks, but I need a break, hah.


End file.
